


The Great Heist Of Shane Madej

by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)



Series: The Happy Endings [1]
Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: ;), Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Racism, Recovery, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, but ya here she is!, i'm not giving u names tho u gotta read 2 find out, inconsistent author, it's been So Long, mike only has a cameo but he's my fav, no smut bc i am a classy gentleman, someone's parents are gigantic shitbags, there will be no sin in this house, tiny little sexuality crisis but i mean nothing major, uhm yeah pls don't read if ur sensitive to stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12221802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat
Summary: Have you ever wanted to run away?Ryan Bergara, local troublemaker and scoundrel, has his whole world turned upside down when he finds out that his best friend, Shane Madej, is being abused by his parents. Ryan spends the next four years of his life trying to get Shane away from his family - but what happens when they finally make it?A story about being lost, and then being found again.





	1. Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! big big thanks to my beta [annie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishwing/pseuds/jellyfishwing) and my personal pep squad [mick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaticTorch3163/pseuds/AquaticTorch3163)
> 
> this isn't a particularly long time in the making, but i did put a lot of effort into this!! pls enjoy!!!

[mister pretender, come and see what you've done,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiG4oKWQ5L8)  
[your foolish tricks, they ain't fooling anyone,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiG4oKWQ5L8)  
[mister pretender, don't you know who i am?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiG4oKWQ5L8)  
[i am your best friend, but i ain't your biggest fan.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiG4oKWQ5L8)

 

_Have you ever wanted to run away?_

 

The question stared at Ryan, who was currently a roll of the eyes and a rude question away from an after-school detention. It was common knowledge that nobody really wanted to run away - even if they threatened it. Ryan, however, was on his best behavior that day - Shane was coming over after school and Ryan wasn’t allowed to have people over when he got in trouble.

 

Ryan’s best friend had been exactly that since they were Kindergarteners- Shane had hit Ryan over the head with a Hot Wheelz™ and, well, the rest was history. A hundred sleep-overs and a few thousand s’mores later and they were thick as thieves. And “thieves” was a perfect descriptor for the two.

 

Ryan was the worse of them, but they were trouble-makers, though they somehow skirted serious trouble when it came to it. Ryan wasn’t worried about the consequences - what teenager was?

 

He stuffed the paper in his backpack the second the bell rang, rushing out the door and onto his bus. The high-schoolers filed on after them - the eighth graders - with Ryan and Shane just sharing their usual seat.

 

They sat  closest to the back - that way they could hear what the high-schoolers had to say. And that day, it was about the poor boy  who’d decided to come out.

 

“Did you hear about Jen?”

 

“Heard she thought she was a boy.”

 

A bout of laughter rang shrilly through the bus over every other voice there.

 

The corners of Ryan’s lips twitched downward. He tuned out the others, pulling out his phone and bumping his shoulder into Shane. Shane turned to Ryan, scowling, and bumped him back, harder.

 

“Oh, you’re on,” Ryan grinned, and then they were ramming their shoulders into each other as hard as they possibly could.

 

“You’re gonna hurt yourselves doing that,” Someone chided, leaning over the back of their seat.

 

Shane scowled back at them - a real scowl this time - and stopped play-fighting with Ryan. Ryan turned his attention back to his phone, reading a text from his mother about whether Shane needed something to eat when he got to their house.

 

_Me: i mean, probably? he’s only going to his own house to get his stuff_

 

_MOM: Well, let him know he’s perfectly welcome to our dinner. Your father is making chicken tacos._

 

“My dad’s making chicken tacos,” Ryan said, “You should have some.”

 

He elbowed Shane in the ribs lightly, grinning at him.

 

Shane smiled back. “Alright, I’ll have some of your family’s dank-ass tacos.”

 

Ryan grinned, laughing lightly, “Only the dankest tacos for the Razorboy.”

 

“I’m Axeman and you know it.”

 

Shane fist-bumped Ryan, hopping off the bus at his stop. Ryan knew he’d have to walk for a bit, his house was pretty far out there, but Ryan also knew that if he offered to just keep Shane’s backpack at his house until Shane walked there, Shane would refuse. And, if someone heard Ryan being _nice_ -

 

Ryan had a reputation to uphold, and he was gonna stick to it.

 

So Ryan sat back in his seat, stretched out over the aisle and into the other one, and opened his book.

 

Ryan’s reputation had room for books.

 

 _Ryan’s reputation_ was somewhat of a conundrum in it of itself, actually.

 

Ryan had always been on the smarter side of things - as one tends to be after a childhood of being sick and watching purely documentaries and Mythbusters and being sick a lot to have more time to watch documentaries and Mythbusters. And he used it. Not in the shabby way school was trying to _teach_ him how to use it - in the way that was _fun_.

 

In short, Ryan excused his pranks by claiming that it was science at work - he was testing how people responded to them. And what better science experiment could he be pulling than a sociological one?

 

Realizing he wasn’t focusing on his book, at all, he snapped it shut and put it back into his backpack.

 

He hadn’t noticed it before, but Jen - or whatever they preferred to be called - was on the bus that day. He wondered if the kids gossiping about them knew they were there, and if they would’ve done it if Jen had announced their presence.

 

Ryan had a bit of a fascination with the way society (and individual people) worked.

 

The bus squealed to a halt in front of Ryan’s stop, and Ryan got off the bus to start walking up the hill to his house. It wasn’t really that far, but the hill made it feel that way. By the end of the walk, he was huffing and puffing like no other, and he actually had to stop for a minute to catch his breath once he was inside.

 

Ryan was really out of shape.

 

He fed the cat and watered the plants, opening the fridge and making himself a sandwich. He stretched out and walked up to his room, in the attic. It was hidden away from the rest of the house, a layer of blankets sound-proofing the floor - a design by Ryan himself.

 

Ryan sat in his room, twiddling with his thumbs and switching between a few mindless computer games as he waited for Shane to arrive.

 

The doorbell rang and Ryan slid down the banisters, opening the door and yanking Shane inside.

 

“Chicken tacos are almost ready!” Ryan grinned, “What took you so long?”

 

Shane looked a bit uncomfortable. His eyes were downcast, and he bit his lip, but he didn’t respond.

 

“To the kitchen!” Ryan changed the subject, dramatically pointing and dragging Shane to the kitchen. Ryan’s father stood over the stove, chicken sizzling in a pan. Vegetables and toppings sat to the side.

 

Ryan and Shane played poker until dinner was done, grabbing some chicken and sitting side-by-side.

 

“Meg!” Ryan’s mother yelled for Ryan’s sister, who meandered down the stairs.

 

“Shane’s here?” She whined, putting on her sunglasses and grabbing a plate.

 

Meghan was the child Ryan’s parents had accidentally. There’s no way of putting it any other way - Ryan was fourteen, Meg was half his age, so one of them had to be, and Ryan refused to believe it was him. Meg fought briefly with their father over whether or not the chicken was actually done, then sat down next to Shane with a huff.

 

Meghan was going through her “movie star” phase. She was far too important to wait for her chicken. Ryan, of course, thought it was ridiculous, but he supposed he was the same when he was seven.

 

Ryan’s parents sat the food down in the middle of the table, and all three kids fought viciously for tortillas, cheese, and chicken. Luckily, Ryan’s parents had made themselves chicken breasts and salad for dinner.

 

Tacos, in Ryan’s family, didn’t actually mean _tacos_. It meant desperately trying to keep all the chicken juice in a tortilla and failing miserably.

 

All five ate together, Ryan and Meghan laughing when Shane got chicken juice all over his arms, as if they  weren’t making the exact same mistake.

 

Eventually, though, all three had finished the tacos, with Meghan avoiding getting too much topping on her dress. Shane and Ryan excused themselves and darted up the stairs before Ryan’s parents could yell at them for forgetting to put their plates in the sink.

 

Back in Ryan’s room again, they fell onto the floor - another by-product of Ryan hoarding blankets like a dragon - and laughed. Ryan wasn’t really sure what it was about.

 

They talked, about gossip, about everything meaningless that they could get their hands on. About dreams, about hopes, about their crushes (a very brief conversation, neither of them had any).

 

And then suddenly it was eight at night and Ryan was suggesting they put their pajamas on.

 

“I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can stay here,” Ryan suggested, grabbing some clothes out of his dresser. Shane nodded, waiting until Ryan was out of the room before he started stripping.

 

Ryan realized he’d forgotten a pair of pajama pants.

 

He opened the door again - logically, Shane couldn’t already be pantsless - and stared.

 

Not in some sort of fanfiction-esque fantasy sequence about Shane’s hulking back muscles. Shane wasn’t the type of person for that to happen.

 

No, it was about the giant, purple and yellow bruise that ran all the way down Shane’s back, wrapping around the left side of his body.

 

“Shane, how did you get that?” Ryan asked, stepping forward a bit. Shane jumped, shirt balled up in his hands.

 

“I - got into a fight,” Shane stammered, backing up a bit. His fingers twisted into the blue undershirt and his eyes were the size of saucers.

 

Ryan softened his voice. “Shane, it’s okay -”

 

Shane looked down, and Ryan realized his eyes were watering. The room dropped twenty degrees to him, and everything seemed dismal and grey.

 

“My dad did it with a two-by-four,” Shane whimpered. Ryan’s head went numb, filled with static.

 

“Shane…” Ryan was absolutely, completely numb. Sure, there was fear, and hurt, and anger, but Ryan’s mind couldn’t process it all at once. He slowly reached out for Shane, who jerked back a bit.

 

“Please don’t tell anybody.”

 

Ryan stood there, looking blankly at Shane. “I won’t.”

 

Shane smiled, though Ryan could see that it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

“Can I… can I hug you?” Ryan asked, voice breaking. Shane nodded, and Ryan pulled him into a hug, sniffling.

 

“‘m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” Ryan murmured, voice muffled by Shane’s chest.

 

“Can you at least wait until I’m wearing a shirt to cry on me?” Shane asked, hugging Ryan back. Ryan let out a shaky laugh, wiping off his eyes.

 

“Yeah - yeah, sorry,” Ryan pulled away, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and stepping out of the room again.

 

The exact, ugly color of the bruise replayed itself in Ryan’s mind like a broken record. Ryan felt a bit sick to his stomach, now that his feelings could catch up to him. Guilt settled heavy in his chest, although he couldn’t tell what he was feeling guilty over. There was no way he could’ve known about it, or prevented it, right?

 

Right?

 

Ryan changed as quickly as he could, climbing back up to his room and sitting down in front of Shane. The two sat across from each other, not quite sure what to say. Then, they spoke up at the same time.

 

“I - I’m sorry.” Was the first real sentence out of Shane’s mouth.

 

“You don’t have to be.” Was the first one out of Ryan’s.

 

* * *

 

Ryan was absolutely numb for the rest of the week. It was the last one of school - Ryan didn’t really try on his finals - but the one thing that kept flying through Ryan’s mind was Shane’s face when Ryan discovered his bruise.

 

Why did Ryan scare him? How long had the abuse been going on? Ryan knew it was abuse, his mom was a psychiatrist and Ryan liked to read her books - but there was something monumental in difference between seeing the words on paper and seeing someone’s terrified face, and the bruises, and the way his _voice shook_ -

 

By the end of the last week of school, Ryan had come up with a plan. He could almost feel his peers getting wary of more pranks, but Ryan… Ryan was done. He was done.

 

He was done with the pranks, he was done trying to keep up an image, he was _done_ pretending to be one thing. However, he knew better than to not pretend at all. Pretending was how adults appeared to be adults. Ryan thought himself rather good at pretending.

 

For example, he pretended that the only reason he was changing his whole wardrobe was because he wanted to get his act together - and it worked. His parents were overjoyed that he was out of his prankster phase, just like his sister seemed to be exiting her ‘movie star’ phase. Instead of a tank top and cargo shorts, Ryan started dressing in button-ups and jeans, even slacks sometimes.

 

Ryan was quieter, now. He started to realize that maybe he was only bringing joy to himself with his pranks. Maybe others found them annoying, or dreaded them happening. If Ryan couldn’t make people happy, then what was he doing?

 

Ryan didn’t burn his books, Ryan sat in class and paid attention. Ryan didn’t burn anything - but he still carried his lighter around, regardless. You never know when a little anarchy could come in handy. Or, maybe, it was just a reminder of what Ryan had been. Of what Ryan would desperately try to avoid being.

 

Though he could anticipate most of what taking school seriously would bring him, he could not - and did not - anticipate the amount of work.

 

Shane stayed with Ryan nearly every weekend, and nearly every weekend it went something like this:

 

Shane tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and Ryan blinked awake. Shane turned on his table lamp. The table lamp was a new addition to Ryan’s desk.

 

“You fell asleep again,” Shane said, sitting on the floor. Ryan followed, laying his head in Shane’s lap and closing his eyes.

 

“Sleepin’? While I’m here?” Shane asked playfully, threading his fingers through Ryan’s hair.

 

Ryan blinked. “Nah, just resting my eyes. How was your day?”

 

Shane would know what Ryan meant by that. Ryan doubled as Shane’s best friend and therapist, seeing as his parents refused to get him one.

 

Shane spilled everything to Ryan, almost like floodgates were opening. There were no tears between the two of them - Ryan was too exhausted, Shane was too numb - and by the time he was done, Ryan could sit up and hug Shane and ask if he wanted some dinner. And, of course, Shane’s eyes would light up - Shane never did believe someone would do something so nice for him.

 

Ryan and Shane snuck down in the dead of night, fishing biscuits and leftover sloppy joe out of the refrigerator and warming up a makeshift home-cooked dinner.

 

And sure, they wouldn’t go outside and grab Ryan’s old tent and pretend they were hunting bigfoot, and they wouldn’t poke fun at one another quite like they used to, and they wouldn’t go splash around in the creek, but they were still close. They were still best friends.

 

It was such a shame that Ryan started to feel something more for Shane.

 

* * *

 

The realization hit Ryan like a truck one day, while he was laying his head in Shane’s lap and resting his eyes.

 

And at the thought, his eyes snapped open. Ryan hadn’t really _had time_ for a sexuality crisis, to put words to it, and Ryan would learn that repressing every human thing about him wasn’t the best idea. The key word of that sentence being “would”.

 

Ryan was only more grateful that he and Shane were closer than most friends. His brain churned as Shane relaxed for once, spitting out scenario after scenario - an unfortunate side-effect of caring.

 

Shane holding hands with him.

 

Shane turning him down.

  
Shane kissing his cheek.

 

Shane calling him disgusting.

 

Shane cuddling with him more, hands running through his hair.

 

Shane never talking to him again.

 

Ryan looked up at Shane’s face, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Shane was starting to grow facial hair, so his stubble was visible. He looked like an angel in the light - peaceful and content.

 

Ryan had realized his crush far, far too late.

 

His desk’s lamp, which had lit Shane’s face for the last two years, now held his fluffy hair in a different light. It almost gave him a halo, it almost erased everything bad that Shane had gone through.

 

Ryan frowned a bit.

 

“What?” Shane blinked, peering down at Ryan’s face.

 

“Sorry, you have something on your face,” Ryan said, sitting up. He got closer to Shane, so close he could feel his breathe in the air around him, and wiped the nonexistent _thing_ off the corner of Shane’s mouth, and time slowed down.

 

Ryan’s thoughts moved at the speed of light, but at the same time, they were still. It seemed as though Shane were getting closer, closer…

 

Ryan pulled away. _What was he thinking?_

 

_How could he even think of Shane like that? Why couldn’t friendship be enough?_

 

Ryan took a deep breath. “Sorry, I think I might be coming down with something.”

 

He coughed a bit for dramatic effect.

 

Shane crooked an eyebrow at him. “Ryan Bergara, you are a _character_.”

 

Ryan didn’t like the way he said it. He said it like he was just getting to know Ryan. Like… like after all those years, he even had more to know of him.

 

Ryan knew he had quirks. He knew he was a _character_ , as Shane put it - he just wasn’t sure it was a good thing. He was _odd_ , and that _oddness_ made him stand out much more than he would have liked.

 

* * *

 

Ryan stayed after for help on his math homework. It surprised most teachers, that a student would even consider staying after school.

 

_“Ryan Bergara?!”_

 

Ryan paused at the door to the teacher’s lounge - where Mrs. Cherry had told him to meet her - and listened to the conversation.

 

“Yeah, he’s a pleasure to have in class!”

 

“A pleasure - a _pleasure_?!”

 

With every new sentence, the other teacher seemed more and more incredulous. Ryan thought it might’ve been his old Environmental Science teacher, back from seventh grade. Mr. Francis always had a _thing_ out for Ryan - admittedly, probably because Ryan had brought Sulfur Hexafloride to class one day and let it loose in the classroom. Not only did they have to evacuate, but it was the most hilarious evacuation Ryan had ever witnessed.

 

Ryan and Shane had both been on the floor, nearly throwing up from laughing so hard. The usually high-voiced Mr. Francis suddenly had a voice akin to Darth Vader, as did the rest of the students. Mr. Francis had not been pleased.

 

Didn’t stop Ryan from pulling some unforgettable pranks, in his own opinion.

 

Ryan, of course, was _delighted_ to hear his legacy had stuck around. He felt a bit like a monarch who had given up his throne for his lover - although, in this case, it wasn’t as dramatic. And Shane was his friend.

 

Unfortunately.

 

“Yes, he’s even given me candy for Teacher Appreciation Week!” Spoke up Mrs. Cherry, clearly just as delighted to talk about Ryan was, knowing that his legends lived on.

 

“ _Don’t eat it_ ,” Mr. Francis urged, and at that moment, Ryan decided it was his time to stroll into the room, whistling.

 

Mr. Francis’s face fell from fearful to nearly blank, the same disapproving, bland sneer that had followed Ryan through the most mind-numbing class he’d ever taken.

 

“Hi, Mrs. Cherry,” Ryan said cordially, “I was having some trouble with number sixteen.”

 

Ryan wasn’t lying. He really did need help with number sixteen.

 

After he understood, he turned around. “Mr. Francis,” Ryan said, “I would like to apologize for the torment I caused you.”

 

Mr. Francis blinked.

 

“Furthermore, I would like to extend that apology to all of my seventh grade teachers,” Ryan forced the words out, almost naturally at this point, “I was going through a rough patch, I hope you can understand.”

 

Ryan plastered a smile onto his face, watching Mr. Francis’s eyes search Ryan’s face for any sign of a lie.

 

Ryan wasn’t lying; he was Pretending. And Ryan was an expert pretender.

 

Ryan extended his hand.

 

Mr. Francis reached out to shake Ryan’s hand tentatively, looking him in the eyes.

 

In his head, Ryan spat out a sarcastic remark and flaunted his way out of the teacher’s lounge, but he’d gotten used to doing things in his head. Sure, it didn’t come with the same _rush_ , but he’d promised himself he’d stay out of trouble.

 

Shane deserved someone who could stay out of trouble.

 

Shane deserved better than Ryan. The melancholy mood fell over Ryan like a river in February, cold and dark.

 

Shane deserved the world, and Ryan could barely give him a single flower.

 

* * *

 

Shane looked hot in a band uniform.

 

 _Good Lord, Shane looked hot in a band uniform_. Ryan was so far gone on him. Nobody looked hot in a band uniform, and yet -

 

Shane looked _hot_ in a band uniform. It wasn’t necessarily the dorky gloves, or the dorky hat… or the dorky shoes… it was the way Shane _looked_ in it.

 

He looked happy.

 

Shane played the trombone in the marching band at school. It was a long story - he’d originally signed on just to get the fine arts credit out of the way, but after a while, he’d started to enjoy band.

 

It wasn’t even a football game they were playing - it was spring, and it seemed as though the band directors wanted to put on one last big show for the seniors. Some of the student body had showed up in the afternoon on a Friday to watch the “halftime show”, although the spring showing was just a big joke. The students didn’t quite take it seriously, the band didn’t either, after months and months of not practicing the songs.

 

The band was on the field, getting warmed up, and something lit a fire in Ryan.

 

He didn’t care about trouble again, suddenly. He didn’t care about the consequences, or what people would think.

 

He stood up on the bleachers and screamed. “Go Razorboy!”

 

It took a bit for Shane to yell back. “I’m Axeman and you know it!”

 

“Keep lying to yourself, buddy!”

 

“Oh, sure, _I’m_ the one who’s in denial -”

 

And by then, Ryan could see the band director glaring daggers at Shane, so he decided to stop.

 

Maybe he did care about the consequences a little.

 

* * *

 

_Have you ever wanted to run away?_

 

Now, Ryan understood the question. Everything felt like it was falling apart. His plan - his _plan_ \- wasn’t _working_.

 

“What about the phone tracker?”

 

“We can take the battery out of your phone!”

 

Silence.

 

Then Ryan spoke up again -

 

“Please?”

 

“No!” Shane refused, _again_ , “Ryan, my parents would feel horrible if I left!”

 

Ryan gritted his teeth. “Shane, you’re an _adult_ ! You’re literally eighteen!”

“Well - maybe I’m scared!” Shane raised his voice right back at Ryan, “I’m allowed to be scared, right?”

 

And in that moment, Ryan stepped back and saw Shane’s eyes. They were so full of fear and sadness and turmoil and Ryan felt like he was kicking a puppy.

 

“Of course you’re allowed to be scared,” Ryan murmured, taking a deep breath and calming himself down, “I’m sorry for yelling. I’m just looking out for my best friend, and I would like for you to _please_ reconsider. I’ll be there the whole time, I promise.”

 

The air around them stilled in the silence. Everything felt like it was pressing against Ryan’s ears in his warm bedroom, the May air making the pinks and golds feel like Ryan’s childhood was saying goodbye to him. Even after the eighth grade, he still had to grow up.

 

And Ryan supposed this was him growing the fuck up. He wouldn’t get anywhere by doing anything Shane’s parents would do.

 

“Shane, I just want you to know that I love you.”

 

And that’s when Shane broke down. His face didn’t crumble, he didn’t sob, didn’t do anything someone who was having a breakdown should be doing. He didn’t scream or lash out, but all the same, Ryan was gentle and tentative as he pulled Shane into a hug.

 

“Yes,” Shane mumbled, voice muffled by the collar of Ryan’s shirt.

 

“Hm?” Ryan hummed. Shane moved his head a bit.

 

“Yes, I’ll go with you on your stupid, crazy fucking adventure, or whatever,” Shane said, voice small. It was almost as though he were afraid his parents would hear from Ryan’s attic, so very far away from everything.

 

Ryan beamed. “And that’s why you’re the best.”

 

“Blasphemy.”

 

“Alright,” Ryan said, more solemnly, “Now, the details of the plan…”

 

They talked for the whole night, Ryan working to ease Shane’s fears about the trip. Eventually, Ryan’s hand found its way into Shane’s, and neither of them could really find it in their hearts to complain about it.

 

Ryan woke up with his head on Shane’s stomach and Shane’s hand threaded in his hair.

 

* * *

 

Shane padded across the floorboards in his bedroom, sticking closely to the wall, to his bed. Of course, he always had his go-bag, but this required more thought. He put his whole suitcase out on the floor, checking it for tracking devices.

 

 _Never can be too careful_.

 

He packed his five favorite shirts, his two pairs of jeans, a pair of basketball shorts (he was wearing the other). He pulled his jacket on and put a pair of gloves into the suitcase. If Shane tried really hard, he could pretend he was a spy. It was like when he was little - he was just a spy. He’d done this countless times before, psyching himself up to live with Ryan forever, but this time he was going to follow through.

 

_His toothbrush. Shit._

 

Shane mentally went through the dilemma - should he pack his toothbrush or buy another from a gas station?

 

His wallet was in the kitchen, locked away, anyway. Shane’d kept about ninety dollars in a book on his bookshelf, but it wasn’t enough to drive to Canada from Kentucky.

 

It wasn’t enough.

 

Shane threw the ninety dollars into the suitcase, slipping it under his bed just in case he got caught.

 

Shane paused to listen for footsteps, holding his breath. He opened his door.

 

_Creak - wince, creak - wince, creak - wince._

 

Shane slipped out, stepping close to the wall. He didn’t dare breathe, or sob, or blink as he crept to the kitchen. His hands shook as they picked the lock with a paperclip, closing around his wallet, slipping it into the pocket of his shorts and starting the excruciatingly slow walk back to the bathroom.

 

Then, Shane saw something that made his heart stop.

 

His mom, peering into his room.

 

“Shane, why are you up after your bedtime?”

 

Shane blanched.

 

* * *

 

Ryan would never forgive himself.

 

Of course, at that moment, he was in the boiler room of his house, sobbing uncontrollably. Shane was up in his attic, probably sitting in uncomfortable silence.

 

 _The bruises and welts and cuts on his face_.

 

Ryan wiped the tears off his face furiously, fingernails digging into his forearm. Shane had been caught doing something _Ryan_ had made him do - Shane hadn’t even wanted to do it at first.

 

Shane didn’t - Shane didn’t -

 

Ryan buried his face in his arms, curling in on himself. He heard footsteps approach, and a small gasp from someone.

 

“Ryan… Ryan, what’s wrong?”

 

Meghan.

 

“Go away, brat,” Ryan warbled through his tears. Meghan sat across from him.

 

“I haven’t seen you cry like this in ages,” She frowned, “Do you want me to get Shane or -”

 

“No!” Ryan said, a bit panicked, “Not Shane.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Okay.”

 

“Please, I’ll do anything -” Ryan tried to get a hold of his breathing, “Just don’t tell Shane.”

 

Shane was the one who was supposed to be hurting. Ryan was supposed to lift him up - Ryan was supposed to be his rock. Ryan wasn’t supposed to be sad, or guilty, or hurt Shane. But somehow, he was all of those things.

 

Meghan huffed. “ _Fine_. If you don’t want someone to help you, I’ll just leave you alone.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Meghan cast Ryan one last look, walking back upstairs.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you want to go to Dreysdale? You could go anywhere, and you’re majoring in business -”

 

“No, I’m absolutely sure,” Ryan was sat across from the counselor in her stuffy office. It was decorated in Steelers merchandise, maybe too much Steelers merchandise for a small town in Kentucky, but still.

 

Ryan had his response on the tip of his tongue. “I want to be an entrepreneur when I grow up. It doesn’t matter if you graduate from Yale or a community college, just that you know how to run a business.”

 

The counselor frowned.

  
“And… you’re sure? You got a perfect score on the ACT - you could go anywhere.”

 

There it was again. The promise that Ryan could achieve his dreams. Or, rather, the dreams other people had for him.

 

“No thank you. I plan on applying for scholarships, can I have the letters?”

 

Ryan was exhausted. His alarm rang and he was up, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He downed it, the burn in the back of his throat waking him up. He walked to the bathroom to glare at his reflection and brush his teeth.

 

God, he looked tired. He’d have to fix that.

 

A little concealer and thirty minutes later worked a special kind of magic. Ryan was glad his mother shared his skin tone.

 

Getting used to makeup had taken a while, but Ryan had no qualms with it after he’d gotten the hang of it. He never wore bold colors, or even anything that was ever noticed by anybody. Just enough to hide the bags under his eyes and any developing pimples. Just enough to keep up that image.

 

* * *

 

Ryan remembered the worst injuries Shane had ever gotten. He’d gotten home after curfew, his dad had… had threatened him with a kitchen knife. And then, he’d followed through. Ryan still shook thinking about it, and he was sure Shane did too.

 

But the image of Shane covered in little cuts and bruises fueled Ryan’s late nights. Shane’s self-deprication and quiet sobs gave Ryan the strength to start working on top of his schoolwork.

 

Because he had to help Shane. Even if Ryan knew that Shane would recoil at the thought of Ryan giving up so much for him, of Ryan’s constant fatigue and anxiety. Shane wouldn’t trust himself for making Ryan go through that - and therefore, Ryan kept it a secret. He pretended that everything was okay.

 

Ryan found himself to be very good at Pretending.

 

* * *

 

Ryan broke down again. _Oh God, what if Shane found out?_

 

And then another pair of feet padded down the stairs, breaking out into a run.

 

“Ryan, Meghan told me you were crying?”

 

It was Shane.

 

“That _bitch_ ,” Ryan spat angrily, wiping off his eyes and halting his breathing for the hitches in it.

 

“It’s okay,” Shane said, with his black eye and his busted lip and his arm with the cigarette burns and… _oh God_.

 

Ryan shook his head. “It’s not. _It’s not_ . You got hurt because of _me_.”

 

Shane sat down just like Meghan had. Ryan backed away from him.

 

“Leave… leave me alone!” Ryan said, not really meaning it, “I don’t - I can’t -”

 

“You don’t what?” Shane asked, looking hurt.

 

“I don’t _deserve help_ !” Ryan blurted, “I can’t… I need to help _you_!”

 

Shane blinked. “ _Ryan_ -”

 

“You care about me too much,” Ryan said, sighing and wiping at his eyes.

 

“Has this - has helping me been stressing you out?!” Shane almost seemed offended. Ryan could almost feel the self-hatred blossom in the other man’s chest.

 

“No,” Ryan shook his head a lied right through his teeth. Or, rather - it wasn’t a lie. He was just pretending.

 

But Pretending made Ryan more of an adult.

 

Right?

 

Shane took Ryan’s hand in his. “No offense, Ryan Bergara, but I have known you since you cried over skinning your knees. I know when you’re lying.”

 

God, Ryan wanted to kiss him.

 

But instead, Ryan flashed him a weary smile. “The stress will go away when we leave - your parents will never go away if we stay.”

 

“Why are - were you crying?” Shane looked into Ryan’s eyes, and Ryan caught a glimpse of Shane’s soul.

 

“What I made you do - or, at least, influenced you to do, hurt you,” Ryan said, voice breaking, “And… and all I’ve wanted to do is help stop you from hurting.”

 

Ryan rubbed at his eyes some more, desperate to stop crying. Shane brought him in closer.

 

“Has someone taken care of your injuries?” Ryan asked, trying to change the subject.

 

“You can’t really take care of bruises,” Shane said, running a hand through Ryan’s hair. As much as Ryan hated to admit it, he really needed to be held. It felt like he was coming home.

 

Ryan pushed up Shane’s sleeve. “You can take care of burns.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Shane murmured. Ryan didn’t know if he was asking him to take care of him or to leave him alone.

 

“I promise you’ll feel a lot better after,” Ryan said, fingers trailing over the marks on Shane’s arm, still a little in shock. Black and blue and purple and red and yellow, an ugly rainbow decorating his arm. They were just as ugly and piercing as the first time Ryan had ever seen bruises on Shane’s arm, and every other time.

 

Ryan wiped at his face again.

 

He stood up, pulling Shane up too. “C’mon, you know how the drill goes.”

 

And suddenly, it was like every other night they’d been through together, just like every other twelve o’clock, when they would sneak down the stairs. Except this time was different, almost surreal.

 

It was like they were trapped in an alternate timeline where Ryan didn’t have hope and where Ryan cried in front of people and where he forgot his Pretending for just a second too long.

 

And, just like every other time, Ryan locked the bathroom door. And, just like every other time, Shane took off his shirt and sat up on the kitchen counter.

 

And, just like every other time, Ryan gasped a little when he saw Shane’s back in the bathroom mirror.

 

Ryan grabbed a rag from the cupboard and ran it under some cold water, wringing it out. He pressed it to the burn marks that littered Shane’s bicep.

 

Shane hissed a little, and Ryan apologized, watching the inflammation go down. Then, he pressed the rag to the welts on Shane’s forearms, the bruises on his face. Ryan paused. Shane’s eyes were always unchanged by his parents’ abuse, but that time, they were red. Like he’d been crying.

 

Ryan knew his own eyes looked like that, too.

 

Shane turned around so Ryan could see his back fully. Ryan’s fingers trailed over Shane’s back, seeing all the places where his skin had broken all the way.

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Ryan said, gently pressing the rag to Shane’s cuts. Shane cursed, fingers tightening on the marble countertop.

 

There was a particularly bad one right between Shane’s shoulder blades.

 

“What did they do to you?” Ryan whispered, more to himself than to Shane. He pressed the rag to the cut and pulled it back to find that the cut was still oozing a bit.

 

“I don’t… I don’t really remember,” Shane muttered, “It’s all a haze. Might’ve torn something open on the way here, too.”

 

“Oh,” Ryan said, “Well, these cuts still need to be cleaned. Do you think you’d be able to withstand hydrogen peroxide?”

 

Shane nodded, and Ryan went to grab the bottle. He also grabbed a few cotton balls to soak.

 

Ryan winced every time Shane let out a little noise, though he knew he was helping him.

 

Ryan wished he could kiss it better - but he also wished it wasn’t such a horrible, horrible time to think about such things. Shane was in such a perilous place, and Ryan had to tread carefully.

 

Ryan finished up, wrapping gauze around Shane’s wounds. “Do you want ice for the bruises on your face?”

 

Shane shook his head. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Bergara.”

 

“Well, excuse me,” Ryan rolled his eyes, putting the first-aid kit back under the sink, “Back up to my room?”

 

Shane nodded, though he took twice as long as usual to climb the ladder up to Ryan’s attic.

 

They sat across from each other, a conversation just beyond their lips, just barely hiding in the silence.

 

“What now?”

 

Ryan shook his head at Shane’s question. “Elaborate?”

 

“My parents found out about the plan. What now?”

 

“I guess… are you sure you can’t go? I can buy you a new wardrobe.”

 

“No,” Shane shook his head, “I can’t leave them. It’d hurt them.”

 

Ryan nodded, trying his best to understand. “Okay. I’ll stay too, then.”

 

“You can’t. You’re going to college - you have a future.”

 

“What’s the point of having a future if it’s not with you?” Ryan asked, eyes dropping the shield of Pretend for a few seconds, “I… I’ll stay here. I’m not gonna let your parents hurt you _ever_ again.”

 

“... _How_?” Shane asked, already afraid of the answer.

 

“If they want to get to you, they’ll do it over my dead body.”

 

Ryan didn’t have to Pretend the steely, somber gaze he levelled at Shane.

 

Shane refused. “You can’t get hurt to protect me. I won’t let it happen. It _can’t_ happen, I -”

 

“You’ve been hurt so much,” Ryan smiled sadly, “I just want to help the pain stop.”

 

“But I’m used to it!” Shane said, “You’re… you’re _my best friend_. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever let anything happen to you.”

 

There it was again. _My best friend_.

 

And there Ryan went, again, daydreaming fruitlessly about _something more_ with Shane.

 

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, racing to Ryan’s window and opening it. Ryan jumped up to his feet, calling after Shane. He grabbed Shane’s arm, causing him to swear loudly.

 

On instinct, Ryan released Shane’s arm.

 

“If you chase after me, they’ll only hurt me worse!” Shane yelled, shimmying down the ladder that ran off the roof.

 

Ryan stayed put, mouth open but no sound coming out. Shane sprinted off.

 

_How could Ryan have let this happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading so much!! friendly reminder that kudos and comments keep ur local writers writing ;)


	2. No Man's Land

[i see earthquakes and lightning,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE)  
[i see bad times today.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE)

[don't go around tonight,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE)  
[well, it's bound to take your life,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE)  
[there's a bad moon on the rise.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE)

 

Ryan’s mind churned.

 

For once, he had nothing to do except look up at the stars and think. He used to do it all the time with Shane, he used to take his best friend in from the bonfire and they would sit up on the roof and look at the stars.

 

Ryan’s mother only caught them once.

 

The stars reminded him of Shane all bright and burning, and the cold wind that nearly blew him off the roof from a spring storm reminded him of his own hollow self. He felt like Shane couldn’t even feel himself burning, like his brilliance was only known to Ryan. Sometimes, it felt like a secret that he kept on his chest out of sheer reflex - sometimes, out of greediness. If everyone else knew how magnificent Shane was, someone better would come along and swoop him up. Right?

 

It was a quiet and peaceful night, the sounds of the freeway behind the forest ringing through Ryan’s body. They ricocheted around in his chest, his lungs full of flies and smoke from fires put out years ago.

 

Ryan was in too deep - although he found it foolish to have realized it in that moment. He hadn’t had his mind off of Shane for four long years, hadn’t had his mind off of the constellations in his eyes and the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and the jeans he always wore. The way his lips looked in the blue, cold moonlight of December. The was his cheeks flushed bright pink during Christmas. In Ryan’s room.

 

Ryan got a new pocket knife from Shane, and Shane got a stuffed bear. Ryan was pretty sure Shane cried and apologized for three weeks straight after his dad threw it in the fire.

 

Ryan was going to give Shane as many soft things as he could manage in the years to follow. Even if he did have to stay there, in Hollow Springs.

 

The same quiet determination that pushed Ryan through high-school fell over him again. If he had to, he would walk to the ends of the Earth for Shane.

 

Ryan felt a rock hit his foot.

 

“I’ve been yelling at you for like five minutes!”

 

“Guess I’ve just been zoning out, sorry!” Ryan yelled down to Shane, who had his suitcase. His  _ suitcase _ .

 

“We have about thirty minutes before my parents get here,” Shane said back, “Grab your shit so we can get on the road.”

 

Ryan had had his suitcase packed for weeks. He dropped it down to Shane, climbing down from the ladder.

 

“Oh, shit -” Ryan ran back to the front door, “I have to write my parents a note, can you put this stuff in my car?”

 

Ryan tossed Shane the keys, running to the kitchen and scribbling out a letter on a sticky note.

 

_ leaving for college w shane, text u when i get there!! _

 

He knew it was short-notice, but he hoped his parents wouldn’t be too freaked out. When he walked out the front door, he locked it. Shane was in the middle of putting their suitcases in the truck when Ryan shut the door, the two of them rushing to get everything done. Shane’s hands were trembling.

 

“Back roads?” Ryan asked, hopping into his car. Shane nodded from the passenger’s seat and Ryan started the car.

 

Ryan knew the way to the highway they’d get on the next day, and he didn’t think he could ask much of Shane, regardless. Shane kept his eyes glued to the mirrors, looking for his parents’ cars. His fingers were curled up in tight, shaky fists over his knees. He radiated fear, and Ryan’s heart broke again.

 

“Relax, they won’t find us,” Ryan said, though he was practically falling apart from anxiety himself. They both let out a breath when Ryan passed the town’s border.

 

The rest of the drive went smoothly - for the first few hours. They stopped at a few gas stations, got some coffee and breakfast, and continued on their merry way.

 

Then, Ryan got a text.

 

_ Shane’s Mom: We know you have him. _

 

Ryan sighed, grumbling something to himself. He wasn’t going to take Shane’s parents seriously. He turned off his phone and handed Shane an atlas of the United States, telling him that he was in charge of directions.

 

“If we get lost and die, I’ll have a hard time forgiving you.”

 

“This was your idea, Bergara.”

 

“Are you really pulling that last name shit on me, Madej?”

 

The two smiled to one another, and Ryan realized some of Shane’s injuries were more pronounced.

 

“Did you… get caught again?” Ryan’s grin fell off his face. Shane shook his head.

 

Shane was a horrible liar.

 

Ryan sighed. “Shane…”

 

“‘m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Ryan said, too tired to fake a smile. Shane drummed his fingers on the dashboard a bit, looking out to the scenery.

 

A while later, Shane found a small town for them to rest in. Ryan pulled up to a skeezy motel, grabbing his wallet and the suitcases. They hadn’t merged onto the highway right away - they’d taken the backroads, so they weren’t going to be getting onto the highway until the next day. Mostly, they were trying to cover their tracks so Shane’s parents couldn’t find them.

 

“I brought my first aid kid from home,” Ryan said, popping open his suitcase, “No hydrogen peroxide though, unfortunately.”

 

Ryan echoed Shane’s empty laugh. The dim lighting of the motel made the two-in-the-morning feel more surreal. Everything moved oddly, too slow and too fast at the same time. Shane stripped off his shirt, and it was more bruised than before. Thankfully, Ryan couldn’t see any torn skin, and there certainly wasn’t any more blood, but Ryan was sure he’d never get used to seeing those bruises and  _ knowing _ that Shane’s own parents had done it to him. It made him shake, it made him want to light something on fire. It made him so angry he felt like he could pull fire from his throat. But he couldn’t snap at Shane - Shane was vulnerable, and Ryan knew better than to betray his trust like that.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan murmured, moving far too close to Shane. He could feel his body heat and he could  _ smell  _ him. Admittedly, Shane didn’t smell all that great, but Ryan didn’t mind. They’d spent all day in the car - Ryan probably didn’t smell all that great either. But it was two in the morning, and Ryan knew better to act on his feelings at two in the morning. Because everything felt better at two in the morning. Because Ryan could so easily sink back into an assumption. He could push Shane past his limits.

 

But more than anything, the two-in-the-morning carried with it a dangerous intoxication. Ryan could almost feel his lips on Shane’s, could see the constellations that littered his cheeks in a vibrant clarity that he didn’t think he ever had before.

 

Shane’s face got a little too close to Ryan’s. Ryan could feel Shane’s breath on his face.

 

“Do you remember… way back when,” Shane muttered, “When we used to lay on your roof and count stars?”

 

_ We’re getting distracted _ . 

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

 

_ I don’t mind _ .

 

“Sometimes I want to count all the stars in your eyes, too,” Shane said softly. Ryan couldn’t help himself - he pulled Shane into a kiss. It was gentle and soft and  _ God _ … even when Shane had been in the car for two hours and was only running on coffee, he was a fantastic kisser.

 

It was soft and lovely and muted like the burnt orange wallpaper and Ryan looped his arms around Shane’s waist so he could pull him closer and Shane kissed him better than he’d ever been kissed before. Two-in-the-morning could be dangerous, but the way Ryan’s lips lit up made it worth it.

 

“Do you want to… uh…” Shane paused, fiddling with the collar of Ryan’s shirt.

 

Ryan looked into Shane’s eyes. “Only if you want to.”

 

Shane blinked, not responding. Ryan stepped back.

 

“Did you really think I’d have sex with you if you didn’t want to?”

 

Shane smiled a bit. “I can want to have sex with you. I can be anything you want me to be.”

 

Ryan felt that feeling where he felt like the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. His stomach churned and his fingers wanted to shake. “Shane…”

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hesitated.”

 

Ryan shook his head. “No, no, please. Please don’t ever agree to something you’re uncomfortable with when it comes to your body. I won’t  _ ever _ touch you unless I know you want me to.”

 

“But…” Shane’s eyes flickered with worry, “Don’t you… don’t you want me?”

 

Ryan sighed, smiling wearily. “Of course I want you. I just can’t fathom enjoying something you aren’t.”

 

“I don’t know if I should feel like this, I don’t know if this is okay, but - I’m only good to other people if I can give them what they want, right?” Shane returned the smile, eerily similar.

 

“But I want - I want  _ you _ ,” Ryan murmured, gently holding Shane’s hand in his own. “The whole you. All of it. If I’m going to love you, I’m going to love  _ all _ of you, even the parts you don’t.”

 

Suddenly, Shane exploded, a burst of colors that nearly blinded Ryan.

 

Fiery reds and yellows flew from his mouth as he shouted, “You don’t know me! You’ve never seen me have a breakdown - a real one - you - you don’t know the territory that comes with being with me all the time! I know I’m broken! I know I’m stupid, and I’m weak, and ugly, and at some point, you will too!”

 

Ryan felt Shane’s words slap him across the face. “I could never not love you. If I haven’t for the last… since I can remember, then it won’t happen. I promise.”

 

There was a pause, and Ryan’s eyes met Shane’s, pleading. This time, it looked like Shane could see into Ryan’s soul.

 

Shane huffed. “Stop finding holes in my logic, Bergara. It’s how I cope.”

 

He offered another smile to Ryan.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Shane nodded, and Ryan pulled him in softly, pressing his lips to Shane’s. He didn’t dare go beyond just a kiss, pulling away far too soon and holding Shane close.

 

“We’d better get to bed,” Shane said softly, “Staying here for more than a few hours would make me antsy.”

 

Ryan nodded. “Wanna change into our pajamas or just crash?”

 

In reply, Shane turned around and face-planted onto one of the beds. Ryan took the other one, falling asleep almost immediately.

  
  
  


The first thing Shane felt when he woke up was his own racing heartbeat. Then he felt his fingers, twisted into the rough sheets, his legs bent at awkward angles.

 

By now - by now his parents knew. By now, they were  _ angry _ . Shane’s breaths shook as he curled in on himself, feeling his world collapse around him.

 

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice broke through the static, and suddenly, Shane could hear his own raspy sobs.

 

“Please, take me back,” Shane whimpered, “Before it gets… before I make it worse.”

 

Shane remembered the last time it had been  _ worse _ . He remembered and it made his eyes dart from side to side, not really taking in the motel room and it made his fingers shake so hard they lost their grip and he choked on his own hot tears.

 

Ryan’s fingertips touched his arm so gently they might as well have not been there - but that was what truly tipped Shane over the edge. He screamed and jumped up, pressing himself into the corner hard enough to leave even more bruises, enough to light his back on fire. A litany of near-meaningless words fell from his lips -  _ please don’t hurt me, please take me back, please, please, please _ -

 

“Shane,” Ryan sounded pained, “I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m making sure they never hurt you again.”

 

“They weren’t -” Shane managed to plaster on his fake smile, “I deserved it! I am choosing to go back of my own free will -”

 

Ryan’s eyes caught Shane’s like a fly on honey. “Are you? Or do you want to go back because you’re scared?”

 

Shane’s fingers found their strength again and he clawed at his wrist. “What would I have to be scared of?”

 

“It’s not… it’s not that hard to see!” Ryan’s voice finally broke, “Shane, it really hurts me to see you like this, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I took you back. I can’t…  _ please _ .”

 

Shane tried to calm down, nodding. Ryan offered him a hug, and Shane’s stomach felt queasy. He swallowed his nausea, hugging Ryan and holding back any discomfort. Shane knew it was silly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that one misstep on his behalf would end in bruises.

 

But Ryan’s embrace was warm, it was so warm - but Shane’s mind started to wander again.

 

“ _ They know _ ,” Shane hissed, racing over to the blinds and peering out from between them. “Can they track credit cards?”

 

“They’ll get your bill at the end of the month unless we change addresses, even sometimes then,” Ryan murmured, rubbing at Shane’s back. Shane shuddered in Ryan’s arms, burying his face in Ryan’s neck and letting himself cry. “It’ll be okay, we’ll just buy from mine. You can pay me back later.”

 

Shane took awhile to stop crying, hiccuping and gripping the material of Ryan’s shirt. Ryan broke the embrace. “We should get going.”

 

Shane nodded, looking uncertain - almost confused. Ryan placed a soft kiss on his cheek, the glaze in his eyes making him hesitate.

 

Nonetheless, Ryan took out some clothes for himself and pulled off his shirt. “Get ready, we leave after you change and get your stuff together.”

 

Shane did as he was told, switching into a t-shirt and his jeans. Ryan rolled his suitcase out to his car, waiting for Shane to do the same.

 

When everything was all done, Ryan got back onto the interstate and headed North.

 

Ryan’s phone buzzed. It didn’t stop ringing all day - from his parents and Shane’s. Ryan’s parents were hurt; Shane’s were furious.

 

“I’m not showing you the messages, Shane -”

 

“I have a right to know! They’re my parents!”

 

Ryan searched for a good comeback, but settled on throwing his phone to Shane while they were stopped at a rest station and huffing, popping an M-n-M into his mouth.

 

_ Shane’s Mom: He doesn’t want to leave, anyway _

 

_ Shane’s Dad: You’ve corrupted our son. Always knew you were a bad influence. _

 

_ Shane’s Mom: We were so worried about him! Bring him back soon _

 

_ Shane’s Dad: I know this is just a stunt you kids are pulling there’s no way you got into an international school _

 

Shane’s mind reeled. There were texts every minute of every hour for the last five hours - all from his parents.

 

Ryan’s hand found its way to Shane’s knee. “It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”

 

Shane cupped Ryan’s chin and kissed him, sunrise-colors exploding behind his eyelids. Ryan sighed into the kiss.

 

“Back to the road?” Shane suggested, “We could turn your phone off, y’know. We’ve survived this far with just the map.”

 

Ryan shrugged. “If it’ll stop the onslaught of texts from those  _ demons _ .”

 

Shane let out a snort, picking a Slim Jim out of the snack bag as Ryan got back onto the highway.

 

Shane had always had a thing for road trips. They seemed to be the one time when everyone in his family got along - that was, to say, during the miles and miles of silence before them, almost everyone was asleep.

 

It was peaceful. Shane liked it that way. He gazed out at the pastures surrounding the highway and felt himself slip into unconsciousness again.

  
  
  


When Shane woke up, it took a while for everything to hit him again. How could he have run away? He’d left his parents all alone - given them time to stew on their thoughts. It’d be bad if he went back, and yet...

 

“Ryan-” He whimpered, “Please take me back.”

 

“You know I can’t -”

 

“You have to!” Shane defended himself, “They’ll - they’ll hurt me worse if I keep going!”

 

Ryan’s hand found its way to Shane’s knee again, and Ryan pulled over. “You know I can’t bring myself to take you back. You’re so close to being free -”

 

“Maybe I don’t want to be free,” Shane stammered out, jerking his leg away from Ryan, “Maybe - maybe I liked it there!”

 

“Shane, you were miserable,” Ryan said softly, “I’m so, so sorry you’re scared. I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

 

“I need to go back!” Shane screeched, losing control for a few seconds and smacking the dashboard wildly.

 

The color drained from Shane’s face when he realized he’d raised his voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I -”

 

Ryan unlocked the car door as Shane’s hand closed around the handle. The two got out, and immediately, Shane realized how far they were from everything. Grassland surrounded them on both sides, stretching on for miles. Shane stepped off the interstate, shaking a bit.

 

Ryan held out his hands, reaching for Shane. “It’s okay. Please, Shane, you’re safe -”

 

“I’m not!” Shane cried, “I’m away from my parents! They protect me -”

 

“Then what about all the time you spent with me? I had to protect you from  _ them _ !”

 

Shane fell silent. “I’m - I’m sorry -”

 

“It’s okay,” Ryan said softly, “I promise. You’re safe here.”

 

Ryan winced at the silence that stretched out between them, pressing on his ears until they felt like they were going to pop. “You don’t have to be sorry.”   
  


“I’m sorry.”

 

Ryan sighed, “Let’s just… let’s just get back on the road.”

 

Ryan ushed Shane into the car, hand on the small of his back. He got into the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, and turned to Shane.

 

“Where to next?”

 

They drove and drove and drove, only speaking when Shane pointed out the next turn, only stopping to use the restroom and get gas. That is, until they pulled into the small town of Cloudsville.

 

“Well, at least we’re almost there,” Ryan said, rubbing his eyes blearily, “But I just cannot keep going without something to eat and somewhere to sleep.”

 

“Ryan,” Shane argued, “It’s two in the morning. Where are we supposed to go? This town literally only has a Main Street. I think it’s abandoned.”   
  


Ryan didn’t know. He drove around aimlessly until he came across what he was looking for - a twenty-four hour Dollar General. It was essentially the only thing in the town, but Ryan and Shane still pulled into the parking lot. There were two other cars in the parking lot, the stars refusing to be seen.

 

“It’s going to rain soon,” Ryan registered as he parked. He and Shane hopped out of the car and strolled into the Dollar General. The artificial lights and air conditioning shocked Ryan’s system a bit, making it feel like he’d woken up from a dream and walked into the real world again.

 

Immediately, they ran into a couple hunched over their wallets.

 

“Ned?” The taller one asked, “Are we out of money?”

 

The shorter, Ned, nodded, seeming hopeless. They sniffled and wiped at their eyes with the back of their hand. The other pulled them closer, hands running through their shoulder-length curls.

 

“I’m sorry, I -” Shane spoke up, immediately regretting his decision when the couple’s eyes snapped over to him. He felt his heart race, hands shaking. Ryan held him closer, murmuring to him.

 

“What did you want to ask them?” He asked softly.

 

“I - I - we have - money,” Shane replied between gasps. Ryan nodded, having Shane sit down on a bench.

 

“If you’ll let me, I can buy you something,” He smiled, “Granted, something small, I’m not a rich man myself, but I can buy you  _ something _ .”

 

The look of relief on the couple’s face was almost magical. With an inward groan, Ryan realized he had two new people to take care of, whether they knew it or not. He looked around for something that would feel filling. He settled on two bags of Chex Mix, a few bottles of water, and a package of Little Debbie zebra cakes. He reasoned that they’d all been through a lot, the couple included. They needed a treat.

 

The couple asked for two giant muffins and two bottles of water. Ryan happily obliged, and he turned to check out when someone crashed into him. And all his stuff went flying. Granted, Ryan was fine, but he was so tired he didn’t know how he could manage to keep his temper.

 

“I am so, so sorry,” A small man said, his glasses making his blue eyes gleam. “Me and Eugene were just -”

 

“Dicking around,” Eugene finished the sentence, running a hand through his wild curls. Eugene was a taller man who looked like he could’ve been a model. “I’ll help you pick those up - Zach, you got our food?”

 

“Yeah,” The other one, Zach, grabbed the cart Eugene had been pushing. Eugene stooped down to get Ryan’s things, handing them back to him. He was still smiling. Ryan stood behind Eugene and Zach in line, the cashier reading a newspaper with his feet up on the checkout counter.

 

He lowered the newspaper and Ryan felt the startling feeling of familiarity. But, on a conscious level, he knew there was no way he knew this guy. He was skinny, with a full beard. His nametag read  _ Mike _ . Ryan had never known a brunet Mike.

 

Mike checked them out, and when Ryan passed by, he got the unmistakable notion that Mike could see his whole life story laid out before him. Like he could see Ryan’s mistakes and triumphs and anxiety. He opened his mouth as if to say something wise, something comforting.

 

“That’ll be ten seventy-five.”

 

Ryan gulped. “Of course.” He handed over the dollar bills, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. The leather seemed to burn on the way back into his jeans.

 

Ryan took his groceries, the bright lights of the Dollar General nearly blinding him.

 

“Good luck,” Mike grinned, kicking his feet back up and leaning back in his chair again. Ryan shook his head nervously, walking over to the group of people. Ryan was absolutely certain he’d never meet someone as powerful as Mike ever again.

 

Though Ryan was hungry, and though he felt like he needed to get out of the store as soon as possible, and though he knew that getting back into his car would be the safest option, it was cool and dry in the Dollar General, and it looked like it was going to start raining at any second. And Ryan’s heater had broken, so he really couldn’t afford to get wet. At night. In the north.

 

Ryan didn’t realize there were people outside until Shane pointed them out wordlessly to him. Ryan jumped, peering out into the dimly lit lot.

 

There were three men huddled under a blanket, looking to the inside of the store with hungry eyes. Between them they only had one backpack, and they looked almost skeletal. Eugene went to let them in, but they seemed wary. Like feral dogs.

 

“It’s okay,” Ryan smiled, and  _ dammit _ , now there were eight. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. Do you have money?”

 

The tallest of the three, a man with limp silver hair, shook his head. “N - no.”

 

Eugene looked at the food he and Zach had bought. “It’s okay. We kinda have enough to feed a small army. We were planning on camping out in the back of my truck for a while.”

 

Sure enough, there was enough space in the camper extension of Eugene’s truck for everyone to sit up, although Shane had to slouch a bit. Shane had actually pressed himself into the corner, hand gripping Ryan’s. He was still trying to calm down from the new people. They were tucked away in their own little corner, as were just about everyone. The nine strangers stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

 

“What’s everyone’s name again?” Ryan asked, rubbing his thumb over Shane’s knuckle and absentmindedly popping a pretzel into his mouth. “I’m Ryan, this is Shane.”

 

Eugene and Zach introduced themselves as the wind picked up, so the man who’d been carrying the backpack shut the door to the bed of the truck. He introduced himself as Andrew, pointing out his partners, Steven and Adam.

 

Then came the couple who Ryan had bought food for. The shorter one, Ned, introduced himself.

 

“I’m Ned,” He said, “I’m trans. So is Ariel. So, if you’re gonna kick us out -”

 

“No, of course not,” Eugene interrupted, “What pronouns do you use?”

 

Ned looked stunned. “I - I use he-him pronouns, Ariel uses she-her pronouns.”

 

Ryan smiled kindly. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

 

There was silence as everyone ate, thunder rolling over the truck bed. Adam, Steven, and Andrew ate like they hadn’t in weeks, and Ryan was starting to really think they hadn’t.

 

“Where are y’all going?” Eugene asked, taking a long swig of water.

 

“Toronto.” Ryan moved Shane so that they were cuddling, Ryan’s arms around Shane’s torso, “We’ve got college there.”

 

The other two groups, and even Zach, shrugged.

 

“I’ve always wanted to live in a liberal city,” Eugene pondered, “I grew up near Houston. Found this tramp hitchhiking in Arkansas.” He gestured to Zach. “Startin’ to think I should’ve left him there, too.”

 

“I have been  _ excellent _ company,” Zach joked, “I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

 

Ned and Ariel shared a glance. “We have enough room in the car for Adam, Andrew, and Steven. Why don’t we all go together?”

 

And then, in the bed of Eugene’s truck as lightning ripped through the sky overhead, they all decided to become best friends without saying a word. There was an unspoken story behind all of them, one that they’d all tell with time.

 

And the unspoken stories, the unspoken agreements, followed them down the freeway, across customs, into Toronto.

 

The last miles felt the longest to Shane. Customs was difficult, as well. They all thankfully had their identification, and Shane hoped his parents weren’t smart enough to check

 

And there, once they were on the other side, once they were  _ safe _ , Shane and Ryan shared a long embrace against the side of their car at a gas station. All three cars had stopped, their occupants taking care of what they needed to. Shane saw Adam and Andrew share a kiss, Andrew’s other hand linked with Steven’s.

 

Likewise, Ned had screeched, running and jumping into Ariel’s eyes. Everyone was so hopeful for the future, it was amazing. Like they’d forgotten how to be hopeful and they were remembering. Like they were hearing a song they hadn’t heard since the third grade and it was the most magical song they’d ever listened to.

 

“We did it,” Ryan murmured against Shane’s chest, “ _ You _ did it.”

 

Shane smiled, tears in his eyes. “You’re probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i didn't get this up sooner! i can't say for sure when the last chapter will be up but i can say that it's gonna be up!! comments are super appreciated <3


	3. The Angel Choir

[ _i'll be leaving with the coffin open_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_EWHkiw0SM&index=17&list=PLTuh0QH9IxNq42lROS9wYFAN7dqGqGMqX)

[ _tell your mother she can sleep inside_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_EWHkiw0SM&index=17&list=PLTuh0QH9IxNq42lROS9wYFAN7dqGqGMqX)

 

It should’ve been easy after that. Not for the first time, Ryan felt horribly cheated by fate. Bitterness rose in his throat as he stood outside the only apartment complex that would suit their needs, and -

“I’m sorry…  _ sir _ ,” The landlady said, looking at Ryan like she would’ve sooner squished him under her boot than rent him and his friends rooms, “We have more applicable candidates willing to fill the rooms.”

He wanted so badly to say he knew it was because they all looked too tired, too poor to rent rooms to. But he couldn’t.

And so the search continued.

They had to settle down soon - Shane was getting antsy being in the car almost all the time. It felt as though they’d been looking for weeks, even though it had only been days.

And that’s when Eugene found it - the end to the plight on their gas money and Ryan’s bad luck.

_ “I found a house for sale. Two bedrooms, with an office and a finished basement we can turn into a third and a fourth. The only neighbor seems friendly enough, around our age, and the landlady seems glad to rent to us -” _   
  


Ryan almost screamed. “Text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Ryan’s car crawled along the crowded Toronto streets, eventually finding its way to the end of a long gravel road.  _ How _ Eugene found this place was, and would remain, a mystery to Ryan.

But there he was, Eugene himself, standing beside Zach, leaning against their truck in front of a ranch-style house. The building itself was brick, and it looked fairly nice.

“It’s beautiful,” Ryan murmured, hand wrapped around Shane’s. The landlady, a sweet-looking girl with natural hair, stood holding a clipboard.

“Hi! I’m Quinta,” She smiled, shaking Ryan’s hand. “Is this everyone?”

“Nah,” Eugene said, “There’s five more.”

“... Five?” Quinta blinked, “There’s  _ nine _ of you?”

Eugene nodded. “We’ll be… we’ll be fine.”

Quinta pursed her lips. “Well, it’s technically a two-bedroom house, but I suppose you could turn the basement and office into a few bedrooms. Some of you will have to double up, though.”

“I figured,” Eugene shrugged, “But it’s okay. Me and Zach will get a bunk bed or something.”

Quinta seemed to consider it for a few minutes, eyes downcast and darting back and forth as her thoughts bounced off each other. “Okay. When will the others be here?”

“I think that’s them!” Shane said, peering behind himself and Ryan and waved exhuberantly. Ryan felt like he was seeing someone else for a split second - the old Shane. And he felt like crying. Of course, he didn’t expect the old Shane to ever come back, but seeing him through the cracks of new Shane was just as sweet.

Ryan grinned like a child on Christmas morning as he was led around the house. It wasn’t anything grand - but to him, it felt like a home in a sea of strangers and misfortune. A living room with a kitchen open to it, with two hallways leading to the bedrooms. A stairwell led to the finished basement, with two rooms. It wasn’t a mansion, but it’d do.

“I love it,” Adam murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Ryan realized it’d been the first time he’d heard Adam speak. There was something comforting and small about his voice.

“Y’all are sweet,” Quinta smiled, “I can start renting it to you immediately. First month’s rent is due on the thirtieth.”

And then, Ryan thought, things should truly be easy.

Ryan would get into a habit of knowing that winning a battle wasn’t the same as winning a war.

The message really sunk in one night when Ryan found Shane, broken on the kitchen floor. Well -  _ found _ wasn’t exactly the right word. Steven, a light sleeper, had been waking up to help people through whatever they needed. Ryan needed to remember that they were all just as messed up as one another.

Ryan had been woken up, Steven’s cold hand shaking Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan jolted awake to the empty bed, feeling something was wrong.

Then, it clicked. “Shane,” Ryan declared, voice groggy. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen to find him on the ground, shattered glass around him. Shane looked like a wild animal, so afraid of Ryan that he couldn’t breathe.

Ryan got on his knees, made himself look smaller, grabbing a dish towel to start cleaning up the shards of the whiskey glass. Ryan didn’t know Shane drank, and felt a pang of guilt for missing it.

“You’re okay,” Ryan murmured softly, clearing a path to Shane and sitting in front of him. “Did you get any glass in you?”

Shane’s breathing was ragged and forced. “Just… please…  _ please _ -”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ryan said, tentatively reaching out to rest on Shane’s forearms. Slowly, steadily, Ryan checked Shane’s arms, his ankles, the parts of his legs that weren’t covered by his boxers.

“You got lucky,” Ryan breathed, “Thank God.”

He brought Shane closer, holding the taller man.

“I’m - I -  _ sorry _ .” Shane apologized vehemently, through silent sobs - gasps, really. Ryan kissed Shane’s downy hair, one hand cupping the back of Shane’s head and the other around his shoulders.

Ryan hummed. “You don’t have to be.”

Ryan felt the golds and pinks of his old bedroom rush back to him, comforting and confining at the same time. His hands shook as he caressed Shane’s face. His delicate cheekbones and honey hair were what finally pushed Ryan to let out a sob. He fell apart, whole body shaking.

There was a part of him, though - a part of him that felt like everything had clicked into place. A part of him that felt satisfied, like he’d reached the last stretch of his story.

But Ryan wasn’t a fool. He knew that things would be hard. He knew that recovery wasn’t linear.

“You cryin’, baby?” Shane asked softly, a small smile on his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, like Shane had finally had the epiphany that Ryan was there to make sure he was safe. It showed on Ryan’s face too, the wet corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Only a little,” He said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his t-shirt. The moonlight felt cool and soothing on his back, Shane radiating enough heat to keep him warm.

“I love you,” Shane murmured, pressing his face to the crook of Ryan’s neck.

Ryan felt his heart swell. “I love you too, baby.”

Ryan fiddled with the fabric of Shane’s shirt. It was soft - an old thing, a faded and dated  _ Doctor Who _ reference on the front. The moment was blue and the panic still lingered in Ryan’s chest but - there it was again, the feeling of  _ finally _ .

“We made it,” Ryan breathed.

Shane’s face was awfully close to Ryan’s. “We made it.”

They kissed, faces outlined by the pale moonlight, broken glass creating a macabre light show on the ceiling. It was slow and sweet and it tasted like static. Ryan gently, slowly, stood up and guided Shane back to the bedroom. It was small and it had a lot of nooks and crannies - Shane still had a penchant for hiding things, money, peanut butter crackers, trinkets. Ryan didn’t dare try to stop him.

And there they were, in the bed that took up the better half of the room, holding each other like it could be the last time.

“I didn’t know you drank,” Ryan admitted, hand tracing a line on Shane’s bicep, skin made lighter in the moonlight.

Shane sighed. “I don’t, usually. Had a nightmare. Needed something to dull the edge.”

“Eugene’s gonna be mad you broke his whiskey glass,” Ryan murmured, brushing Shane’s hair away from his forehead. He moved so he was on his elbow, looking down at the taller man. Shane closed his eyes, letting Ryan pet him. “But it’s going to be okay. He’s not going to hurt you.”

Shane nodded. “I know. I just - I think I’m finally letting myself break down, y’know?”

Ryan hummed in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to Shane’s brow. “I’ll make sure you never hurt again.”

Ryan picked up a job at a gas station. He went to college, he worked and worked and worked because that’s the way it had always been. And there were days when Shane would be so out of it that he could barely remember Ryan’s name.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Shane hasn’t left his room all day,” Andrew said, voice quiet. Andrew had that quiet way of  _ knowing _ that both of his partners shared, and Ryan wondered how he did it. “It’s his parents, isn’t it?”

“They keep asking where he is,” Ryan wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Callin’ him disgusting names. He still thinks they really love him.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew soothed, taking a sip of his wine. They were standing in the kitchen - the same kitchen where everything seemed to happen. And the kitchen was where the doubt started to grow.

It started as a small nagging in the back of Ryan’s head - what if Shane’s parents  _ did _ manage to find them? What if they tracked them down through their friends? Eugene wasn’t shy on social media, although he had stopped short of giving away their address, it wasn’t that hard to track nine people living in the same house just through the virtue of word-of-mouth.

Thankfully, there were things to distract Ryan from the anxiety that picked at his brain when he was bored. The neighbors, Keith and Becky, had seemingly taken it upon themselves to be the biggest delights on the planet. Everyone at the Madej-Bergara House (they called it that for lack of a better word - everyone insisted that Shane and Ryan had brought them together in the first place).

Even though there was an underlying sadness to the way Keith carried himself sometimes, he smiled like the sun lived behind his eyes and laughed like it was the most natural thing someone could do. Becky was the same - her face lifted sunbeams into whatever room she graced. They were both good cooks, and based on how they acted, Ryan was shocked that they weren’t parents by then.

But he didn’t press it. He just kept working, kept pushing the paranoia out of his mind. Even though Shane said his parents had started threatening him. There were rough nights.

Nights when Shane woke up screaming, and suddenly there were three extra people in their tiny bedroom, Ryan holding a shaken and silent Shane, who let his body go on autopilot until he could function again.

And then Steven would get him something cool to touch - a room temperature glass of water, a worry stone. And the others would go back to bed after offering their condolences, and Ryan would try to coax Shane back into sleep.

It wasn’t like the others were much better - Ryan, on several accounts, had heard sobbing or screaming from bedrooms, from the kitchen. But he knew someone else would always be there - and anyway, he had Shane to worry about. Of course, he fretted over the others. He always asked Andrew if Steven had eaten, told Eugene how precious he was, made sure everyone knew they were loved. But in their eyes everyone held a different flavor of a haunted look. The once-broken group all felt they were putting on a farce, but they didn’t want to break in case the others had already healed. And of course, Ryan saw through that.

But he didn’t change it. He didn’t know why - maybe because he felt bad forcing the others to do something, maybe because he felt it was a futile battle. Maybe because Shane’s parents had gotten worse. And they had gotten so much worse.

They were threatening Shane - and it seemed that they would never give up. It had almost been a year, and some of the things they said left Shane a shaking mess. Ryan was just terrified that they had the means to follow through.

Then, they texted Ryan the address of the house. And Ryan felt his stomach sink through his toes.

The text came on a slow and - relatively - peaceful Sunday afternoon. In a house with eight other people, there was really no peace to be had. Keith had pulled out his guitar and was in the middle of teaching Adam to play the violin. They sang ditties, Keith’s low baritone harmonizing against Andrew’s tenor. Andrew sang as he danced with Steven, and the rest watched on, feeling almost jealous. It took a long time for Ned and Ariel to let go of themselves enough to dance, but when they did, they went at it like they were meant to do it all along.

Ryan didn’t dare try to get Shane to dance like that. Shane would - Shane would have loved to. But he could barely leave the room for fear of finding his parents; he feared so badly hearing his dad’s heavy footsteps and his mom’s angry breaths. So Ryan just looped his arm around Shane’s hip and let him drink his iced tea.

Ryan felt he was a little closer to giving Shane that flower.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and as he pulled it out to check on it, something in the back of his head screamed in dissent. And then Ryan opened his phone. There was a text - and at first he didn’t understand it.

And then the street name hit him. The numbers left his head swimming. That was -  _ that was their house _ .

Ryan had only had a panic attack a few times before - once, when he forgot to study for his math test, once, when Shane had gotten his phone taken away as punishment without the opportunity to tell Ryan, and once, when Shane’s dad showed up to pick Shane up at three in the morning, heavy boots and alcohol smell and all. But none of those were quite like this.

Ryan felt like a caged animal, air running thin in his cardboard box. He felt like his life had been shattered, like it hadn’t really existed in the first place. Evidently, he’d dropped his phone - dropped to his knees, because Shane was pulling him up and the music had stopped.

Shane murmured close to Ryan’s ear. “You okay, baby?”

Ryan shook his head, scrambling to get away from Shane’s grasp. His hands felt like fire against Ryan’s arms. “Your parents. They - they -”

The color drained from Shane’s face and his hands shook, like he was torn between anger and pure, blinding fear. His eyes looked less like amber and more like empty  _ things _ held in place by smoke and string.

“They have our address.”

And then, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees, and everything froze. Nobody else knew what to do - hell, Shane and Ryan didn’t know what to do. And then Ryan felt the dam break. A sob pushed itself past his lips, loud and ugly, and then he was wailing into his hands, wild and broken.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah,” Steven said, beating the rush of people to the kitchen, and embracing Ryan, “It’s okay!”

“No!” Ryan shook his head, “It’s not! I worked so hard to keep him away from  _ them _ but obviously, I didn’t work hard enough!”

Steven rocked Ryan back and forth, making small, soothing noises and stroking his hair. “You did the best you could. I’m sure nothing would have stopped them.”

Ryan’s hands were pressed between his face and Steven’s chest, trying to wipe away his tears. Shane just stared blankly out into the nothing. Ryan hoped it was peaceful there.

Adam gently took Shane’s hand, wordlessly bringing him to the sink and getting him a glass of water. Shane didn’t drink it. Ryan understood - being numb would be far preferable to being the mess Ryan was. And Ryan felt the spike of fear and anger like a stake through his heart.

“It’s going to be okay,” Steven said, “Y’know what - we can win this! We can trick them. We’ll make a battle plan.”

Ryan didn’t dare hope for the future - he felt like he’d gone up against the impossible and lost. But he couldn’t afford to lose Shane. If Shane was going down, Ryan was going down with him.

Ryan still nodded. After all, who was he to take away the hope of the others?

Steven stepped away, and at some point during the meltdown, Keith and Becky had slipped out. There was an awkward air around the kitchen, everyone not quite sure what to do.

Ryan sat down at the table, head in his hands. Shane was sitting next to him, still staring off into space. Ryan sniffled a bit, putting his hand on Shane’s thigh.

“I’ll go back,” Shane said, voice barely audible.

Ryan blinked, exhausted. “No. You won’t.”

Eugene, Adam, and Zach took seats at the table. Ned and Ariel were standing in the corner of the kitchen, looking on, concerned. The room radiated anxiety and stress and terror - but most importantly, it radiated warmth and comfort. Ryan’s adrenaline was met with loving, tender hands, as was Shane’s stubbornness.

“You’re never going back,” Ryan murmured, turning Shane so that he could look into his eyes. The soul-catching, delicate, glass-and-spiderweb eyes. “You’re never going back so long as I have breath in my body and blood in my heart.”

“It wasn’t - it wasn’t that  _ bad _ !” Shane protested, though it seemed that even he didn’t really believe his lie. “They never - I’m still alive!”

Ryan’s eyes softened, and he remembered Junior year. “But only just.”

Shane gulped. “But -”

“You’re not going back to them,” Ryan pressed, teeth gritted, “You can leave the house, you can go live in an apartment somewhere and never talk to me again! That’s your choice! You can go live all the way across the fucking world, and I wouldn’t stop you! But you - are -  _ never _ \- going - back - to - that - place.”

Ryan punctuated the sentence by kissing Shane heatedly, almost angry. “I love you. I can’t send you back to the place of people who’ve hurt you.”

Ryan remembered Eugene’s truck, where they’d spilled all their secrets. Shane hadn’t said a word, simply allowed Ryan to tell his story for him. After all, their stories weren’t that far apart. Then, he showed them the bruises. The bruises that still chilled Ryan to the core. Shane was still numb, clinging thinly to reality, the world a blur before him. Ryan had had Shane describe these moods to him.

Ryan knew it was scary. But he also knew that he’d worked this hard to keep Shane safe - and he wasn’t going to stop then.

“So, Steven, about your plan…”

They talked for hours, until everyone was clear on what they’d do. They would not open the door for anyone except Keith and Becky, and if Shane’s parents showed up and forced their way in, Shane and Ryan would be hidden in the boiler room. Then, they would wait for Shane’s parents to give up.

“They won’t give up for a long time,” Shane had warned. Ryan squeezed his hand under the table.

“Then we’ll just have to be the most annoying sons a’ bitches around,” Ned spoke up, grinning. There was a silence again - but this one wasn’t awkward or terrifying or crushing. This one was purposeful. There was simply nothing more to be said, only to revel in the quiet determination of everyone around them. Everyone felt like they were preparing for battle. Shane and Ryan knew they were.

That night, Ryan held Shane closer. His legs were entwined with Shane’s, arms wrapped around his middle.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Shane asked softly, “You deserve so much better.”

Ryan could feel him start to sob. “Hey - hey, baby, it’s okay! You deserve me because you’re witty and beautiful and so, so smart, and -”

“But I’m terrible at relationships,” Shane lamented, “We haven’t even had sex!”

“We haven’t had sex because you know you’re not ready for it,” Ryan said, “And I won’t ever force you to do something you’re not ready for.”

“But, what happens when I take too long to be ready?” Shane asked, “What happens when it’s five years from now and I’m still not ready and -”

“That’s okay,” Ryan soothed, reaching up to run a thumb along Shane’s cheek, the stubble there tickling his fingers, “You could take forever to be ready and I would still love you.”

Shane looked down at Ryan, eyes so full of sadness it put an ocean in Ryan’s chest. “This is what I mean - you’re so  _ giving _ . Someone better than me deserves that -”

Ryan kissed him before he could say anything else. “You deserve me,” He interrupted, “You deserve everything I can give you. Life gave you a bad deal, so I think the best thing I can do is help make up for it.”

Shane’s body was wracked with a sob. “You’re so good to me, Ryan. I’m sorry I can’t make it up to you.”

“You make it up to me by being the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” Ryan said, “Y’know, up until high school, you would’ve sooner died than cry in front of me.”

“Sorry -”

“No,” Ryan fiddled with Shane’s nightshirt, smiling a bit, “I’m glad you can be vulnerable with me. I’m glad we’re not just fair-weather friends.”

“D’you ever miss it?” Shane asked, “Looking up at the stars, playing poker… all that?”

Ryan buried his face in Shane’s chest, his answer muffled. “Of course I miss it. But I still have you. And that’s the only thing I need.”

“Wanna play a game?” Shane proposed.

Ryan blinked. “Still know how to play Texas Hold ‘Em?”

“Of course.”

Shane pulled a deck of cards out of one of the desk drawers, sitting upright on the bed. Ryan grinned as Shane dealt five cards to the two of them, laying another five between them.

“What do we bet with?”

“Hm…” Shane thought, “How about - this -”

Shane took out a notepad and a pen. “We bet in kisses.”

“I’m listening,” Ryan raised an eyebrow. He grinned a bit - he was certainly interested in this combination of Old Shane and New Shane. And somewhere, Ryan remembered what had transpired, but Ryan also knew that they were distracting themselves. Or, maybe, they were just trying to stave off the dread for the weeks to come.

Ryan didn’t care. Shane’s warm voice matched his eyes, his hair. “Each of us has fifty kisses to bet with. Loser gives the winner a hundred kisses.”

“Sounds like a fuckin’ good deal,” Ryan’s smile grew wilder, and he raked his fingers through his hair as Shane flipped over the flop. Their laughter grew, dancing around their eyes, bright like fireworks.

Then, as though he’d forgotten how bad he was at poker, Ryan was down to five kisses. And he’d been dealt a horrible hand. Shane smirked, obviously very pleased with himself. So, Ryan took his pair of fours and twitched his lips up into a smile.  _ Treat it like a pair of Kings. _

And really, that’s what Ryan felt like. He could almost see something ancient in Shane’s eyes, like a timeless fire. The glow of his eyes could outshine the moon - and maybe even the sun. They wrapped themselves around Ryan, and he didn’t feel like he was losing, even as Shane called his bluff.

Ryan could not be assed that Shane had a full house against his own two pair. Ryan slowly pulled him closer, hands caressing Shane’s skin. He kissed Shane’s forehead.

“One.”

His cheek. “Two.”

And then, he kissed every part of Shane’s face he could get his lips on. It started slow, sweet, but it grew frantic, something close to anxiety pushing Ryan as he pressed kisses to Shane’s arms, his torso, his neck. He worshipped Shane’s body like it was something far more sensual than a lost bet and far more meaningful than a game of poker.

And then, he reached a hundred.

And then, he kissed Shane’s mouth. Their lips fit together perfectly, like they’d always been meant to do so. Shane’s nose pressed against Ryan’s cheekbone, Ryan’s hands on Shane’s hips.

“Why didn’t I think of that before?” Shane asked, “You’re such a good kisser.”

Ryan suddenly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t know when the stress of Shane’s parents would stop giving him such intense mood swings, but he hoped it was soon.

“I think it’s bedtime,” Ryan yawned, almost too tired to keep his eyes open. Shane nodded, letting Ryan pull him to the bed. It was a Queen sized bed - a little cramped, with Shane’s height, but it was the biggest bed they’d get in the room. The room itself was painted a mellow, faded green, ceiling left white. It had beige carpet. It already smelled like home. There was a desk by the bed that neither of them really used. Shane hid things in the drawers, behind shelves, in his side of the dresser. Ryan let him.

And so, as Ryan drifted to sleep, he pondered the life they’d made for themselves in these few weeks. The friendships they’d made - for once, Ryan didn’t feel like it was them against the world. Ryan thought of Ned, with his caring eyes and hopeful attitude. Ryan thought Ned and Ariel were the toughest people he’d ever met. And yet - they were so kind and patient.

Ryan went through everyone in his head. Andrew and Adam, cut from the same cloth, quiet and loving and cynical. Steven, their antithesis, exuberant and aloof and optimistic. Somehow, they all balanced each other out. Steven was always the first person up when someone was having a breakdown, alone, outside or in the kitchen. Steven spent a few nights on the roof with Ryan. Ryan appreciated that.

Eugene was so… special. Not in the demeaning way - Ryan had legitimately never met someone so  _ colorful _ . Everything about him spoke bright turquoise and neon pink. Zach was quiet. Ryan didn’t know much about him. He did know that Zach celebrated hanukkah - and that he was terrified to tell them that he celebrated hanukkah. Eugene was just as terrified of opening up - it was always his breakdowns that were the hardest to hear, according to Steven. He would just… stand there, staring at the phone. Contemplating something.

And then, there were Becky and Keith. They were two of the brightest people Ryan knew. While Shane beamed like the sun once in a blue moon, the couple next door glimmered blindingly every second. Ryan wondered how they did it.

Ryan didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up the next day feeling an odd mixture of emotions; vaguely, he could recognize that somewhere in him, there was hope. But it was so far gone that it might as well have not been there.

He kissed Shane’s knuckles to wake him up. He’d already made up his mind to treat Shane as softly as possible. He’d need it - and who  _ he _ was was up for debate.

Of course, it’d only be a few more weeks before the strange car would show up in their driveway.

Someone knocked on the door and Ryan and Shane bolted downstairs - Shane’s parents had given plenty of warning. Plenty of warning that sent Ryan into spirals of trying to regain his breath and Shane into some blank world where he didn’t have to feel.

They did as they were told, hiding in the boiler room. The walls were thin. They could hear everything, even if it was muted by the panicked beating of their hearts.

“Where is he?” Shane’s dad barked. Ryan pulled Shane close, cradling him as he trembled.

Ned’s voice replied. “Who?”

“My son,” Shane’s dad snarled, “Tell me where he is!”

Ned’s reply sounded clipped, like he was barely containing himself. “I do not know who you are talking about. Please leave and never come back here again.”

“I know he’s here,” Shane’s mom spoke up, “He’s coming home with us. He never wanted to leave, anyway. That  _ scumbag _ made him.”

Ryan could see the fake smile plastered on Shane’s mom’s face. He could smell the chewing tobacco on Shane’s dad. A few tears leaked onto Shane’s sweater as Ryan pressed his face into Shane’s shoulder to mask his sobs. He’d never been more terrified.

He’d never commended Ned more for his bravery out loud - and if he didn’t remember that he had, it hadn’t been enough.

“Ma’am,” He said, “I have never met your son. I can’t help you. If you don’t get off my property, I will notify the police.”

Shane’s dad had apparently had enough. “Bull.  _ Shit _ .”

And then there was the sound of a struggle. Limbs struck the floor above Shane and Ryan repeatedly. Ryan refused the urge to surrender to Shane’s parents, let them do whatever they wished to him. He knew what it was like to be Shane, in those horrible minutes. Even if it was only a sliver of what he was feeling.

It took a while, but the scuffle stopped. The door closed and someone walked down the stairs to the basement. Ryan gripped Shane painfully tight, breathing him in like it was the last time.

The door opened. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“It’s okay,” Andrew spoke, kneeling down and gently loosening Ryan’s fingers from Shane’s quaking bicep. “They left.”

Ryan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He turned and pressed a ferocious kiss to Shane’s lips, teeth clacking together as he let out a single, strangled sob of relief. Everything came together all at once, the most climactic moment of Ryan’s life spent hidden away.

“The others are upstairs if you need us,” Andrew said, smiling a bit, “We know you might not want to, but if you do wind up wanting to talk, we’re here for you.”

Shane nodded, and Andrew slowly backed away. He meandered up the stairs, not looking back at Ryan and Shane, but keeping his attention on them in case something happened. His quiet focus was the kind Ryan admired like no other. He and Shane stretched their stiff muscles, walking up to the hallway feeling like newborn baby deer. Shane looked like one too, tripping over his own oversized feet. Ryan steadied both of them, wrapping an arm around Shane’s waist.

Everyone was standing in the living room, Ned collapsed on the couch. He had an ice pack on his nose, his shirt bloodied and his knees bruised.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Shane blanched, rushing over to check to see if Ned was okay, “Oh, this is all my fault -”

“Shane, it’s okay,” Ryan said, kneeling beside his boyfriend and rubbing his shoulder, “It’s nobody’s fault except your parents’. It was still a shitty thing for them to do - Ned, are you okay?”

Ned nodded. “Yeh. Think I broke by dose. Again.”

“Again?”

“Soccer accident,” Ned sniffled, “Id’s okay. I can still breathe. I’mb sure it’ll be fine.”

Ryan nodded, looking over to the others. Eugene was looking to Ned with a new kind of reverence, one that Ryan knew Eugene had secretly always had. “He was a badass, Ryan, you should’ve seen him.”

“I wasn’d  _ thad _ good,” Ned rolled his eyes, barely visible behind the ice pack.

Eugene snorted. “I couldn’t have done better myself. And I used to have a green belt in MMA.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said genuinely, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder, “You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.”

Ned gave Ryan a look that was so full of admiration that Ryan felt almost uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything, though. The conversation had run itself dry. Everyone was already exhausted, and it was only a little after noon. There was another knock on the door.

Shane and Ryan froze, and Eugene went to answer the door. When he visibly relaxed and let Keith and Becky in, Ryan felt like sobbing again.

“Shane, your parents are a nightmare,” Keith said, in what Ryan figured was a Keith-soft voice. Not soft by any normal person’s standards, but soft for Keith. “I’m sorry you had to go through so many years living with them.”

Becky made a noise of assent. “They’re probably still at our house, waiting for us to answer the door.”

Shane laughed, somewhere between hysterical and mortified. “You basically opposite ding-dong-ditched them.”

There was another lull in conversation - it seemed that there would be another long waiting period before Shane’s parents would truly give up. Ryan didn’t know if they ever would - but Ryan also knew that he wouldn’t either. And he figured it’d take a lot to make the others give up, too.

“Next time,” Ryan’s voice was almost thoughtful, “Don’t be afraid to chase them off your property with a shotgun. Don’t be afraid to fire a warning shot.”

Ryan’s eyes were dark - Keith’s were wide. He nodded, and Ryan pulled Shane closer, rubbing the back of his hand. Shane laid his head on Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan felt himself fall in love a little bit more. Every once in a while, he wouldn’t think it was possible, after all this time. And then he would.

He remembered the first night at the house. Ryan hadn’t slept - Shane hadn’t either. And now that Ryan knew the rhythm of the house, he knew that nobody else had, either. It wasn’t that they didn’t  _ want _ to trust the others - they didn’t know  _ how _ to. It was something they’d have to relearn. And now, now… now, Ryan couldn’t imagine ever placing his faith in another group of people. Hell, it had taken him that long to learn to trust himself.

Ryan could feel hope fill the place in the back of his head where dread used to lay, on the wooden living room floor that stuck to his thighs in the midsummer heat. He knew that the following weeks, months, years would be easier. He didn’t just wish it - he knew it would be true.

And maybe Shane’s parents would keep moving the finish line. But Ryan’s most morbid thoughts were sometimes his most comforting - they were all eaten by the same worms one day. Shane’s parents were no exception.

And as those days, weeks, months went by, Shane grew out of his shell. He joked with Zach and Steven, drank with Eugene. He kissed Ryan more.

He told Ryan he was ready three times before Ryan believed him. But when Ryan knew Shane meant it, that he wasn’t terrified to lose Ryan if he didn’t sleep with him, Ryan made sure Shane knew how beautiful he was.

And Ryan knew, he  _ knew _ that the new family he’d made would share a bond forever. No matter how tired he got of them, he would love them fierce as lightning.

It only took a year for Ryan to realize how he finally had something he never knew he needed - he had constants. He’d spent so much time on unsteady ground that he barely knew how to react to stability. He could always count on Ned waking them up with a delicious-smelling breakfast, he could always count on Shane’s snark leading him to throw his whole body into a laugh.

Shane always looked at him like he’d hung the stars when he laughed like that.

“You’d think you’re in love or somethin’,” Steven jokes one evening. Ryan smiled back, peering at Shane’s pointed face, his fluffy hair.

“You’d think,” Ryan replied, winking. And he felt like if he hadn’t given Shane that flower yet, he would one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it, folks!! if you want to see some more (less angsty) #quality content, please check out my bfu tumblr: [razcrboy.tumblr.com](https://razcrboy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and remember! comments and kudos keep your local writers writing!


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